Planned
by Meridian31
Summary: "I'm like 20% sure this plan will work. The other 80% means we could die horribly and violently, but honestly it's a really solid plan." / Drabble. One-Shot. / Kenny Omega


Standing in the back of the arena in Osaka, you avoided anyone that was even remotely nearby, though there were very few bodies passing by. You just kept looking at the floor, shifting from foot to foot, thinking through what tonight entailed. No one would blame you for your nerves. This wasn't something you were used to doing, and it certainly wasn't something you'd done in NJPW before.

"Yo, come on," Nick's voice broke into your thoughts. Your eyes turned to where the younger Buck stood at the end of the hallway. "He's up in like ten."

"OK, yea, I'll be there in a second," you assured. With one last curious look, Nick turned and went back the way he had arrived.

You weren't a contracted wrestler with NJPW, and you weren't even officially _in_ The Bullet Club. But you portrayed a heel all the same and had a sort-of understanding with your fellow troublemakers. That was on screen at least in ROH and other various indie promotions.

Behind the scenes, the Bucks were some of your favorite people. You'd been running around on the independents, crossing paths, with them for years. So of course, you'd had appearances on the Being the Elite show, and it wasn't like you were a secret.

And that was basically how you were now standing backstage at a NJPW show, where Kenny was once again taking on Okada.

Their matches were always incredible, physical, destructive. Terrifying.

It had been your reaction, which was basically a meltdown, to their WrestleKingdom match that had gotten you into your current predicament, however.

Throughout that entire event five months ago, you'd been on the edge of your seat. You'd dug your nails into poor Candice's arms, leaving marks. There'd been hiding behind hands, as well in the shoulder of those around you. At one point, you'd even attempted to leave. Hell, you'd taken a few shots of liquid courage before arriving at the building.

When you'd finally seen Kenny in the locker room post-loss, you had managed to clean your act up and present yourself as a concerned but loving girlfriend who wasn't entirely emotionally unstable.

But word traveled quickly through your friends, and soon enough the next day Kenny was well informed about your behavior during his match.

You'd made one innocent comment in the following discussion, telling Kenny that you just hated being so far away from him and not being able to do something quickly if something _had_ gone wrong.

All you'd wanted was to be sitting closer, not be a part of the situation.

When Kenny had approached you with his idea initially, you'd immediately balked. You weren't here as a wrestler, you were here as a girlfriend. You were meant to just be supportive from a distance during and take care of him the best you could afterward.

He'd argued that for all intents and purposesyou'd still be supportive from a distance, just a closer distance by a couple feet than if you were in the front row.

Stupid technicalities.

"Hey."

"What are you doing back here?" It was the first thing you could think to ask as you watched Kenny come towards you.

"Looking for you," he answered, stopping where you stood.

"You shouldn't even be thinking about me right now. You need to be focusing on this match and everything. Just go back, I'll be there in a second, I promise."

"I can multi-task," Kenny argued.

"No you can't," you replied in earnest. He laughed at your response, nodding his head briefly in agreement. The silence fell around the two of you, any commotion in the arena and in the ring muffled by the walls and barely audible. Kenny seemed to be assessing you, and you had to keep yourself from chewing at your lip.

"I want you out there," he finally said, repeating the same sentiment he had been for the past two weeks.

"I know," you stated. "And I just…I don't know. Why do you need me? You have Nick and Matt."

"Nick and Matt aren't you," Kenny pointed out, reaching out to take your hand in his, tangling your fingers together. "I love them, and I will always have them in my corner. But I want you there too. I want to hear _your_ voice when I need it most."

"You know I'm probably more of a liability out there than anything."

"Nah," he dismissed. "You're smart, and this is far from your first time outside the ring. Things go differently here. Nothing will happen to you. Something could happen to me, but I mean, that's to be expected. But what I'm planning on is I win and we get to leave together."

"You seem pretty certain of all this."

"Honestly, I'm like 20% sure this plan will work. The other 80% means we could die horribly and violently, but honestly, it's a really solid plan."

Your laughter was instant at his statement, the absolute seriousness that he said it with causing your reaction more than the words themselves.

"So reassuring," you teased through giggles. His smile was bright at the sound of your laughter, making him look far less intimidating in his wrestling outfit. With a slight tug on your hand, he brought you right into his body, looking downward at you. Your amusement trailed off as you looked up at him. "I love you."

"Love you," he echoed back.

"Should I have had some drinks before I came tonight?"

"…yes, fuck yes." He looked almost horrified you hadn't.

"Welp! This will be fun!" you decided. "Guess we have to up it to a 90% chance we die horribly."

"You gonna wait for me in the afterlife?"

"Eh," you shrugged. "Unless young Patrick Swayze shows up. Then sorry not sorry."

"Yea, I can totally respect that," Kenny agreed. You locked eyes for a solemn moment, but you both broke into smiles. You leaned forward putting your head against his bare collarbone, grinning to yourself when you felt a kiss placed on your hair.

"Come on, we should go," you said, without moving your head. "You've got a match to have. And I have a panic attack to have."

"You'll be fine, it'll be fine."

"Will it be fine? Is that what it will be?" You couldn't stop the sarcastic question from leaving your mouth. Slowly you lifted your head, meeting Kenny's unamused look. "Not fine?"

"C'mon, dork," he requested, leaning down to kiss you gently and briefly.

"You're the dork, dork," you childishly argued, pushing at him gently, before turning and starting down the hallway. Within two steps he was beside you, an arm going around your shoulders, tucking you to his side.

Tonight was going to be intense, that much you knew. And being close, being able to see the detail, to know for sure Kenny was OK…you did appreciate what he was trying to do to make the night easier for you. Which was kind of funny, given he was the one basically going into a war of a match.

You just hoped it didn't, in fact, backfire in some way tonight. And you hoped you could keep yourself in check ringside, and not have a meltdown. For the first time in your life, you had to be wrestler **and** girlfriend at the same time, and it was weird. But for Kenny, it was worth it.


End file.
